


This Could Be Champagne

by AphroditeB00w



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Draco Malfoy, Adult Harry, Auror Harry Potter, Coming Out, M/M, Old Romance, Rekindled Romance, disillusioned harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2018-11-16 00:52:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11242866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AphroditeB00w/pseuds/AphroditeB00w
Summary: A series of consecutive one-shots, cataloging the burgeoning feelings between post-Hogwarts Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.





	1. Chapter 1

“Could everyone who is not a bloody Auror, get the fuck out?”

Harry’s roar was met with some shocked stares and more than a few sniggers. There was a momentary dip in the background noise of spells flying through the air, before it picked up again. The accompaniment of murmurs of the gathered crowd now departing added to the noise and Harry Potter huffed in unconcealed annoyance and turned back to Rupert, who quirked an eyebrows and raised his wand.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, grabbing the towel off the bench nearby and wiping his face of sweat, pushing errant hair from his eyes. It never stayed in the pony-tail, and no matter how Hermione or Ginny tried to teach him, he never understood why he couldn’t get it right.

Then again, proper ponytail care wasn’t on his list of priorities for the past three years.

Ever since he’d returned from Ireland, chasing down various dragon tails and hunting for potential werewolf connections, he’d been the subject of gossip. London wasn’t the place he’d wanted to be for good reason; he’d long ago become tired of being the boy who lived, the boy who defeated, the hero of the wizarding world. Hiding out in caves and forests and mountains had saved him, for a little while. But he couldn’t stay away forever, mores the pity.

Now he had returned, along with Rupert his attaché in Ireland but since become friend, having been bribed, coerced and vaguely threatened by Shacklebolt to run the Auror training program for the next while. But the fame had been waiting for him, and far too many admirers. In the few weeks he’d been back, he’d gotten far too many floo requests, pink owls and rose coloured office memos to feel relaxed about it anymore. The fact that Rupert laughed at the unnecessary amount of gawkers at his training sessions only made him scowl harder.

When he turned back to Rupert, wand at the ready, he was halted by Rupert’s indication to something behind him. Harry turned, still frowning and felt an unusual skip in his chest.

“Hallo.” Draco Malfoy said, waving his hand once and smiling a snaky little half smile. He took a sip from a mug he held in the other hand that said “this could be champagne.” leaning against the wall like he had no intention of going anywhere.

“…” Harry opened his mouth to say something, but his voice has vanished somewhere between his brain and his throat. He eyed the man with equal trepidation and curiosity.

The sound of Rupert clearing his throat spurred him into action.

“You an Auror now Malfoy?” he said, only turning himself halfway, refusing to let the man see any more than his side.

“No. not at all.” The blond replied, again with the same snaky smile, head cocked and eyes merry.

“Then I believe I told you to leave.”

Malfoy sipped once more from the mug, his eyes locking with Harry’s openly. He took his time swallowing, then licking the edge of his lips delicately.

“No thank you.” He said simply.

There it was again, the hesitancy of breath, the brief stuttered closing of the throat that prevented his immediate answer from coming forth. He watched Malfoy’s eyes for a moment longer than could be considered normal, before wrenching his head and body back around to face Rupert with no more argument.

Rupert was barely smothering a happy, salacious little grin. “Oh really.”

“Shut up, or you will regret it.” Harry growled back at him. Rupert did, but his grin lingered until Harry washed it off with a Flooding hex.

Draco stayed only a few more minutes, before uncrossing his elegantly folded legs and walking out of the door, not that Harry noticed.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the before-times...

It was cold, in the cave.

The entrance had been almost too narrow to fit through, but any port in a snow storm, and in the upper reaches of the Alps, with hungry yeti’s roaming free, this was the only port. Harry was lucky it opened out further in, with enough space for him to sit, if not stand. And since the corridor was a U-shape, he could light a fire without it being seen r blown out.

But it was still cold. Even with the fire and the warming spell he’d put on his clothes. He breathed in ice, even if he didn’t have to sit in it. He gnawed at the dried meat Hermione had snuck into his pack and (thank merlin she had because he’d have run out of food otherwise), leaning against a more ore less smooth piece of cave wall, staring into green and purple flames that were more light than heat.

As he shifted, the crunch of wrapping spurred some further exploration into his jacket. Eventually, in a secret pocket he hadn’t realise he had, he finished out a magic frog, still wriggling in its wrapping. Attached, a small note.

“Harry, well, we all know why you left so suddenly. Just check in every now and then. XOXO Hermione and Ron.”

Harry let the packet fall into the flames, and after a cursory glance at the card, that too.

 

_Harry potter, one of the youngest Aurors in wizarding history,_

_and the hero of the magical and muggle world alike._

Harry chewed on the frog in silence, watching the shifting image of himself curl and disappear within the flames. Somehow Hermione had given him one of the limited edition stock, when the company had asked for the rights to run a limited edition series, five different Harry Potter card, each with their own secret fact about the saviour himself. As far as Harry could tell, only three of them had been true. Harry wasn’t so naïve that he chalked it up to coincidence; Hermione would never let something like that happen by accident.

It wasn’t as if he was shirking. He was still an Auror, he was just an Auror in the middle of nowhere, and hunting for some Yeti’s who were supposedly terrorising the local muggle township. It was still more or less unconfirmed. But it had ticked the boxes: 1) it was far away 2) it was immediate. He taken the assignment and left, taking a moment to send a flying note to Rupert and Ron before aspirating away.

Demosthenes huffed softly, his canine chest expanding and emptying quickly, his ears pricked, eyes also deep in the flames. The hound had already finished his snack, and was content to sit at Harry’s side, as still and quiet as his master.

There had been some argument about whether Harry was allowed a familiar that was a dog. It had been a gradual thing, with Harry bringing him into work one in a while, then every other day, then every day. By the time someone noticed that the hound was not some random hound and actually was the animal partner of Harry Potter, it was too late to change anything.

Hermione had puzzled over it, even though Harry had told her that he wasn’t particularly magical and probably didn’t count as a familiar. But when a few tests had been conducted it showed that the hound had some magic in him, and was clever enough to listen to fairly clever instructions if Harry was the one who gave them. It turned out that there was exactly a law against having a dog for a familiar, it was just…dogs weren’t exactly very esoteric. But Harry was the saviour, and the saviour got what he wanted. Which left Harry with a foul taste in his throat but he got to keep Demosthenes so he kept his mouth shut about it.

Demosthenes had been a ragged and wet puppy when Harry had opened his the door of his flat one boring Sunday, and had held his gaze calmly and knowingly. Harry, feeling no real reason not to, had let him in and they’d been together since. He’d had no familiar since Hedwig, and though Demosthenes was black from tail to nose, he wasn’t anything like Sirius had been.

After a while, if Demosthenes had an almost magical ability to sniff out a magically concealed group of smugglers, or stop Harry from taking a step onto a holographic floor, or never ever bark, well…Harry didn’t question it. Demosthenes quiet presence was welcome, and his existence had become as normal as Harry’s arm, or the pattern of badly healed scars on Harry’s left upper arm.

Demosthenes inched closer, settled with finality against Harry’s side. Harry put his arm across the animals back, enjoying the solid weight of him. He felt a pang of regret: the dog was cold. Though he didn’t shiver or whine, Harry knew that the short haired pavement special had not been ready for the drastic temperature drop.

“Sorry, boy.” He murmured, running his hand over the dog’s back, rubbing. “We won’t be here long.”

Demosthenes sighed once more, laid his head on his paws, quiet and compliant. They watched the everlasting flames, sleep far, the storm outside whistling high, trying to claw its way into the cave with icy fingers. Then Demosthenes perked up, facing the narrow entrance, and Harry stiffened, wand immediately within his grasp.

A part of the storm seemed to separate, slinking its way into the cave and coming to rest on the other side of the fire, white and ephemeral as snow, its glow making the cold cave even colder.

A patronus, a white pine marten, its ghostly eyes fixing on Harry.

“You didn’t have to leave.” It said, in a voice Harry knew.

Harry stayed silent; patronus were a message form, not a conversation tool.

“ _Over and over Harry, the only truth…everything comes back to you. You utter, utter bastard_.” The Marten said before disintegrating into the air, taking the glow with it.

 


	3. 3

_In before times_....

 

“Stop.”

“Stop what, Harry?”

Draco’s voice was silken, unhindered and it annoyed Harry that the asshole wasn’t anywhere near as flustered as he was. No, Draco’s hand hadn’t moved from his waist, and he was still very much into Harry’s space, in the narrow aisles of the records shelves.

Harry exhaled hard, willing himself to stay cold, and sensible. “Kissing you would be a bad idea.”

“You should have said that three kisses ago, Harry.”

Harry meant to push Draco away, but his hands followed the movement, and so did the rest of him. It was made too easy since Draco allowed it, letting himself be pushed back into the opposite shelves, shifting some old manuscripts. Both Draco’s hands were on his hips now, pulling them closer to one another and his face was laconi, waiting.

“Stop enjoying this.” Harry said, forcing his own expression to stay impassive.

“I don’t think so.” Draco laughed softly.

“Doesn’t it bother you, that you have someone? That you’re doing this to him?”

Dracos’ eyebrows snapped up. “…I beg your pardon?”

“You beg no-ones pardon, that’s the problem.” Harry retorted.

It wasn’t that Draco was handsome. His face was too long, his mouth too thin, body to lank, hair too white. But Harry had found there was a hard and very _significant_ difference between Handsome and Attractive. And at this moment, Harry was undeniably attracted.

Draco smirked, folding his cheek along a soft line in the skin that was accustomed to this exact expression. “Do you by any chance mean Gregory Loft?”

Harry finally forced himself away, bringing cold distance between them. But he didn’t leave. Draco chuckled.

“Harry, just because I work with the man doesn’t mean we’re together, you idiot.”

Harry maintained his neutrality. “I saw you ‘together’ at the pub. Do coworkers often swap saliva that way?”

Draco outright laughed at him. “Are we still in school? Besides, why not? You and I do.”

With a push off the shelving, Harry turned away, making for an escape. “I’m not interested in swapping anything with you. I’m not like that.”

“Like what? Into blokes?” Draco retorted and made Harry still. He turned and walked slowly back to Draco whose gaze had become sharper.

“No, not gay. You think I care about that?”

“Well you have a _reputation_ to uphold.” Draco snarked.

“Fuck you.” Harry said in a low voice. “I don’t do casual kissing in the office, or corridors, or pubs. We're not even _friends_. Get it? So keep your paws off me.”

“Harry…” the uncertain lilt to Draco’s voice stopped Harry for the second time.

“Yes, Greg is…fun every now and then. But it’s not serious.”

“That’s not the point Draco. Go have fun, just not with me alright?”

This time, Harry got to walk away, escaping ad breathing in air that wasn’t pumped full of lust and very teenage-like hormones.


End file.
